The road to Kofu was clear. The workers who had worked for years on the project of connecting Kofu to major fortresses, had created a network of roads that lead all fortresses to Kofu. We continued to go from village to village, recruiting more and more men. Soon a ragtag group of twenty-two samurai, all lead by Masakage-sama and some two hundred men were heading towards Kofu. Only one week left. And I would be training to go to war with the Hojo. To finally gain some sense of vengeance against the vermin who killed my father.
“Yaemon, I heard some whispers that we are going to be given some weapons. Rumor is that there are bandits. Groups of ikki,” Nobutu whispered into my ears.
Ikki, or the Ikko-Ikki were a band of peasants like me, with religious monks and other dissatisfied with samurai rule. Nobody liked them, not even simple farm and fishing folk like me or Nobutu. They raided farms, raided fishing villages, killed the very people they were supposed to represent. Bandits. And they roamed the Kai countryside. Lord Shingen of course was directing all available forces to combat them, but he needed his main army to confront the Hojo. And that is where we were coming in.
On the third day of the march, with four days left, a large merchant caravan was coming through, laden with weapons and food. Masakage-sama stopped and conversed with the merchant, and I heard shouts of anger and hatred coming from the merchant’s throat. It got so bad that two of the samurai had to go in and defuse the two, as if blows would come between them. But Masakage-sama kept grinning like a madman and the merchant kept spouting curses. Finally the merchant gave up and accepted a bag of silver from the samurai and departed, angry words. It seemed that respect and honor did not adhere to the merchant class. What a pity.
The merchant had his men unload great bundles of weapons and even armor. There, Masakage-sama grinned his usual grin and then waved goodbye to the merchant. The merchant then replied with a gesture that made four samurai leap up and almost draw their swords.
As the day turned into night and the Kai plains were a lit by the moon, men started to get weapons. Yari. Spears as they were known. Elegant weapons, it was the first time I had ever held a weapon. It was light, yet deadly in my hands. As the ashigaru, as we were now called by Masakage-sama, looked at their new weapons, Nobutu grinned. Masakage-sama came and got our attention.
“Listen to me you backward peasants! This is a yari. This is perhaps the only weapon you will ever receive. Of course the illustrious merchant decided to part with it for a...paltry sum it could be said. But with the rumors of those traitorous ikki roaming the countryside and the army still forming, it would not sit well with me that I gathered two hundred men, only for them to be slaughtered by poor bandits looking for a quick meal. So, we will start your training here. A yari is a spear. The art of using a yari is called sojutsu. You will not be learning that. You will be learning the always wonderful art of standing in formation and fighting with the man next to you,” and I grinned at Nobutu and another boy by the name of Taetoryi.
“For now, here are the simple orders. You will lean down. You will wait for them to reach you. You will then thrust,” he demonstrated by thrusting into the open air with his yari creating a deadly hiss,” and hopefully kill them with that thrust. If that doesn’t work...then good luck. Rely on the man next to you and maybe...maybe, you will survive the coming days.”
That was not the greatest preparation speech. The other men were looking at each other as Masakage-sama mounted his horse and spurred us forward. We stopped for four hours and he drilled us on the techniques, telling us that it would save our lives. I didn’t think it would and it certainly felt that I would die because of the constant usage of the yari.
Masakage-sama decided to stop in a field for the night, overlooking the road. As we set up camp, he drilled us even more, burning into our minds that we needed to thrust and if that didn’t work, parry and then thrust again. He seemed to take great pleasure in making our lives more miserable than it ought to be.
We ate a bowl of rice and a thin strip of meat that was probably horsemeat, before resting for the night, and fell asleep. Sentries, most of them new recruits like me, used torches to make ways around the camp. Armor, armor they had just gotten that afternoon, jingled and groaned. I slept on a worn straw mat that I taken with me from one of the villages we had stopped by, when a strange rustling noise awoken me to something.
The moon guided me to my weapon. Masakage-sama had camped in the middle of field, the green grass reflecting the silver light shining upon us. I grabbed my yari, trying to remember Masakage-sama’s words. You will lean down. You will wait for them to reach you. You will then thrust. I leaned onto my right knee. I would not allow myself to be killed by some ikki bastard who decided he was rebelling. I never liked samurai, but vengeance against the Hojo would not happen if I joined the ikki. I would probably die and my mother would be lost without her only son. I would not allow her to have that dishonor. And as I prepared, a savage howl was heard across the camp and from the plains not covered by the torches of the sentries, came maddening cries. Glints of steel and madness came from all sides.
No. There seemed to be hundreds of them, surrounding us. Just two hundred men and twenty-two samurai against what seemed like hundreds of them. Howls, snarls, and general crazy sounds came from them. It was if we were facing off against animals and not humans.
“Up! Up! Get up you lazy dogs! The enemy is upon us!” came Masakage-sama though his voice carried steel, it was tempered. It almost seemed as if he was...expecting the ikko-ikki to come. His red armor in view, I was unarmored; just dressed in a kimono without armor. Then something was thrown at me. A conical shaped hat, made of what seemed to be lacquered leather, landed in my lap. I looked up to see Nobutu grinning as usual.
“A gift from a friend,” he said simply and put on the hat. They were called jingasa and would provide good cover for me if any of the ikki got a swipe at my head. As the camp awoken, the samurai herded us into lines. I was placed right next to Nobutu and Taetoryi. This was good. We were still surrounded it seemed, but least I was going to fight besides friends.
I must admit, I was nervous. This was not going to be fake, like when I used to spar with father before he died. This was actual warfare. People were going to die. And I, hopefully, was not going to be one of those people. I felt a growing pit in my stomach as I looked as the first ikki came into view. Following him were dozens of ragged men, all of them armed to the teeth with various weapons, from yari to straight-edge swords, to even a tessen. I was amazed and awestruck by the general variety of weapons these men carried.
“Stay strong men of the Takeda! These are but vermin, dishonorable vermin that prey on your families and loved ones! They are not worth living! They are cowards that would rather fight against woman than real men! You are all strong, able to fight! Fight! Fight!” Masakage-sama shouted at the top of his lungs. We roared back and with new found vigor, I faced the approaching masses of ikki.
None of them had bows. That was good, I supposed, because that meant we weren’t getting shot at. They started to run, hungry for battle. I steeled myself and knelt down. All the other men did the same as I did and I readied myself for the first battle I would ever partake in. Would I survive? The answer was simple. I sure hoped I did.
“Ready yourselves! Here they come!” shouted Masakage-sama and he fell back into a stance. The other samurai did as well. This was going to be a bloody battle.
The first ikki who reached our line was cut down by a katana before he could even raise his weapon. I was stunned by the sudden ferocity of the attack of the katana and looked over to see a samurai covered by a mask. He turned his gaze towards me and gestured to face the oncoming horde of bandits. I gulped and looked forward.
At least one hundred ikki streamed towards us in mobs of a dozen or so. The first mob reached us, their weapons raised.
“Thrust!” came the order and after hours of having drilled into my head, I, with savagery that surprised me, thrusted my yari straight into the chest of an incoming ikki. The man gargled as I wretched my yari and then watched him die, fountains of red spurting from his chest. He seemed to gasp and look at the heavens, but nothing but moonlight and dark clouds greeted him. Nobutu shouted and I saw him locked in combat with a heavier man that smelled like hadn’t bathed all of his life. Knowing the vile ikki I doubted he had even heard of the concept.
I raised my yari and with a yell, plunged it straight into the chest of the man, the spearpoint emerging on the other side. He howled and dropped down, where Nobutu’s yari came crashing down, ending the evil man’s life with a single stroke. And with that, a dozen bandits who had been terrorizing Kai’s farms and villages had their lives taken away by men who had started training that very same day. Makasage-sama’s voice came roaring over the general clash of steel upon steel. Raising his katana, which was now drenched in blood, he cut an ikki down with a single slash. The sword flashed and it felt like a second had passed.
“They are still coming! Do not let your guard down! Remember! They are vile savages! You are Takeda men! Ashigaru, kill them for your daimyo!” came the order, but this time from the masked samurai. It was amazing to see two hundred men hold off how many others, especially since we had just started training that very night!
The second mob reached us, this one much more cautious, along with a third mob, and then a fourth one. They were starting to use their numbers against us and even I could see that this was very ill-advised for us. I kept low on one knee as I was taught and then came up, my yari thrusting. The third opponent I faced was not as inexperienced or stupid as my first ones. He blocked my thrust with a flick of his wrist and then attacked me with a straight-edge sword.
I panicked. Knowing that the sword had an advantage in the close-quarters fighting that we would devolve into, I spun my yari around, blocking his attack. I was amazed and what I had just done and so was he, because he paused for moment. That moment of hesitation allowed for me to attack him with my yari, sinking into his arm. He yowled with pain, the hard steel easily bypassing the soft cloth he wore. I grinned savagely in the soft light, basking in his misfortune. Taetoryi, who was next to me, killed him, visibly shaking. We had both killed tonight. And the killing would not stop until they were all dead.
The ikki continued to stream forward, bashing themselves against our yari wall. Everytime they did so, I got a little more tired, a little slower, a little more sloppy. I kept remembering to lean down and thrust into their chest, my yari the only thing between living and dying. It was quite ironic I thought, that I was being saved by a weapon meant to kill.
“Brace...thrust!” came the order once more and once more an ikki impaled himself on my yari. Masakage-sama then raised his katana and with a mighty yell, killed a monk with ease, cleaving the naginata staff the monk used in half.
“Masakage! I know you are there! Come out!” came a brisk voice over the sea of bodies. The samurai looked over us and I turned to see a an imposing figure, cut in the finest armor I have ever seen. Black as night and with a mask similar to the other samurai, he was built like a boar, a savage gleam coming from the katana in the moonlight. The ikki were still coming and they were still dying in droves for this man.
“You want to fight! Then let us fight!” Masakage-sama’s reply came, throwing all caution to the wind. A shout came from the giant boar-like figure, and the ikki parted ways, as the red armor of Masakage-sama came roaring in. The two men met as their swords clashed.
I watched in amazement as the two fought. It wasn’t like the brutal fighting, the bloody spear rising again and again to kill the streaming ikki bandits. This was more like a dance. Their movements were fluid, as if water was flowing from stream to stream. Masakage-sama’s sword flashed in the darkness, the light reflecting off his katana as he thrusted forward, only for the blade to be slapped violently aside his opponent.
The two continued to fight, their swords a blur. Masakage-sama would press the attack, only to be driven back by a flurry of blows. His opponent would attempt to drive past his defenses and Masakage-sama would easily defend himself. It was stalemate.
Then Masakage-sama launched into a twisting, confusing attack. His sword leapt from side to side, the sharp blade whistling through the air. He then cut off part of the mask, revealing nothing, for the darkness covered it. He then sliced downward, his blade meeting steel once more, and the duel was back on track.
I continued to watch with giddy anticipation, gladly forgetting that we had been battling it out just minutes before. But as I watched, I saw a lone figure start to approach, clad in black. In the figure’s hands was a short knife, a tanto, and he had it outstretched, pointed towards Masakage-sama’s back. I couldn’t believe that this man would try to end his life! By a knife in the back! I would not allow anyone to die dishonorably. My father might have died, but at least he died fighting his opponent honorably, not with a knife in the side.
I let something overtake me. Screaming, I raced towards the figure, my yari raised. The man, at least I presumed to be a man, looked at me, and rolled to the side as I came crashing, my yari plunging into the soft dirt. I whipped it out and soon started to attack this man. He dodged and rolled, but couldn’t close the distance between us. My yari was too long and his blade too short. I tried to stab him once more, but he continued to elude me. I grew frustrated. Couldn’t this man stay still?!
“You involve yourself in events that do not concern you peasant! Don’t make me kill you!” he suddenly threatened. I was stunned. Events that do not concern me? I responded by thrusting forward, my yari touching the black cloth. He rolled back and then parried the spearpoint with his knife, sending me back.
“You were trying to kill Masakage-sama! I will not allow you to give the man a dishonorable death!” I cried and then slashed, my razor sharp yari cutting deeply within the cloth, but not touching the skin of the black-clad man. He grunted and then shuddered. I pressed my advantage and then slashed upwards, the tanto barely blocking it. Using my superior length, I stabbed forward, only for him to grasp my yari, and pull. I stumbled and his eyes gleamed with victory.
“Time for your death,” he gloated and I grunted, not wishing to die. Clenching, he took the yari from my hands and then tried to stab me straight in my heart. Only with the blessing of the Gods was I able to dodge the stab and with the utmost cry, I kicked with all my strength. The yari came into the air, and he was distracted. I then barreled straight into him, my desire to live and not die making me stronger. Twisting, I dodged his desperate response to stab me, and I grasped his right hand and refused to let go.
I was not prepared for his headbutt. I stumbled, only to cry out as his tanto came screeching, cutting me across the shoulder. This was the first time I had ever been seriously hurt. Even as the blood started to seep through my clothing, I couldn’t let the pain overcome me. This man was trying to kill me. Adrenaline and the desire to live were what allowed me to swiftly twist like some kind of cat to avoid his next attack. He screamed with savageness in his lungs before lunging towards me.
This was his first and last mistake. A blade came out of nowhere and severed his head from his body, the bloody cartwheel of his head landing at my feet. Looking, I saw a samurai clean the blade with a cloth and he looked right back at me. This man had just saved my life. This samurai, had risked his life for me. I turned to see the tide of battle turn. The bandits that had tried to kill us were scattering in all directions, horses neighing and swords dancing, I saw what turned the tide. Masakage-sama stood victorious over the boar-like man.
The red horsemen of which Kai was famous for had arrived. I turned to the samurai.
“Thank you lord,” I said gratefully, bowing. He looked at me before speaking.
“That was a brave thing you did there. Trying to hold off a fully-trained ninja? Amazing. You managed to save Masakage-san’s life while he was dueling. Those bandits will not be bothering anyone more,” he said, his thumb pointing to the hundreds of bodies around us.
“What is your name?” he asked and I looked, stunned. Once more, a samurai had asked me my name.
“Yaemon lord,” I responded.
“Well Yaemon, I guess you should join back with Masakage-san’s column. If you are ever in Kofu, ask for Hara Mastane.”
“Thank you my lord,” I said, shivering. I have been spoken to by two samurai. What else awaited me?
Vengeance and Forgivness
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Originally Posted by Alwyn
(I wouldn't from the comments I've read you seem to be doing a great job! 
)
, I will hopefully get it out sometime this week. And Shankbot, that would be awesome. Please tell me what you think! Merchant, always nice to see your comments, and Ussaid, thank you!
